Moving Out
by BBBA
Summary: Siblings argue with each other. It's a part of life. But that doesn't mean they don't still love each other.
1. Chapter 1

"You're a jerk!"

"No, you're the jerk!

"Just get out of my room! While you're at it, get out of my life!"

"Gladly!" _Slam._

PJ Duncan winced as his little brother stormed out of their shared bedroom and slammed the door. He really didn't like fighting with Gabe, but there were times when he just wanted –no, needed—to be alone, without some annoying eleven-year-old hanging around. Like today, for example. PJ had some thinking to do, and he did that best lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling and listening to some old-school guitar gods.

Satriani, Surfin' with the Alien. Nothing like it … well, maybe some vintage Knopfler, Or Van Halen, of course. Anyone who had ever dreamed of touching a guitar _had_ to get a charge out of listening to the magic of Eddie Van Halen.

PJ's friend Emmet had a line on an apartment in downtown Denver, and needed an answer by 5:00 today. It was a sweet basement apartment at a price that was almost too good to be true. Two bedrooms, heat included, close to campus, next door to a take-out pizza restaurant. Basically, heaven on Earth for two 18-year old boys. And since PJ had enough money saved up for his half of the deposit and the first couple month's rent, it seemed like a slam-dunk. Really, how could he turn it down?

Over the guitar music, he heard someone knocking on his bedroom door. Great. Either Gabe was back to bug him again or their mother was here to jump into the middle of his business. PJ wasn't in the mood to deal with either one of them.

He closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep. Hmm, an apartment with Emmet. No irritating little brother underfoot, no well-intentioned intrusions from his mother. Definitely tempting.

The knocking continued.

PJ started a mental list. Good things about moving out: privacy, his own bedroom, no curfew, no one telling him what to do, no babysitting the two little ones. Well, okay, that wasn't quite fair; Gabe didn't really need babysitting anymore. Not really. But that still left their almost-three year-old sister Charlie. And, of course, providing chauffeur services to Gabe.

"Hey! I know you're awake!"

His eyes flew open. His sister Teddy stood over him, hands on her hips and a scowl on her face. She was just over a year younger than he was, but that didn't stop her from trying to tell him what to do.

"What do you want?" he asked.

Teddy sat gracefully on the edge of Gabe's bed and gave him a reproachful look.

"You made him cry," she said.

"So?" PJ shrugged. Deep down inside, his stomach twisted a little. Gabe _never_ cried.

"So he's eleven. You're eighteen. You need to be the grown-up."

"And you need to mind your own business." Another score for the "good" list: No Teddy trying to poke into his business and tell him what to do. And there was the whole mess of Emmet's crush on Teddy to be considered. If he didn't live at home anymore, he wouldn't have to watch his best friend turn into a babbling moron every time his little sister walked into the room.

"C'mon, PJ. It's not like you to yell at him like that. Sure, you guys fight a lot, but you've _never_ blasted him like that. What's going on?"

PJ sighed and sat up slowly. "I've just got a lot on my mind, okay?" he finally said. "I didn't mean to hurt his feelings, but are you so sure the tears were real? You and I both know Gabe can be a pretty good actor when he wants to make people feel sorry for him."

"True."

Suddenly, PJ found himself pouring out his heart to her, telling her about the apartment and his worries about the upcoming classes at the community college. Okay, so that was something for the "bad" list—he'd miss talking to Teddy. He had to admit that she was a great listener.

"What if I'm not smart enough for college?" he asked her. "Or for any of it? Keeping a job, paying my own bills, finishing the homework, doing my own cooking and laundry?"

"Well, the cooking can't be worse than what you get here," Teddy chuckled.

Another item on the "good" list: if he moved out he wouldn't have to eat his mom's cooking any more.

"Listen, PJ," she said, after a moment. "You are an adult now, and I won't deny that it would be nice to have one less person in the house. It would definitely be nice if I didn't have to listen to you and Gabe fight with each other all the time. But … you don't have to be in a rush, you know?"

"I know."

"For the record, I believe you can do it all," she continued. "You're smarter than you give yourself credit for. And you are eventually going to have to move out, because that's what kids do when they grow up. But I'd kind of like it if you'd stick around for a while."

Teddy seemed to find something very interesting about her fingernails. "You know I'd miss you, right?" she asked. "I … like having you here. I love Gabe and Charlie, but they're … we take care of them, you know? And Mom and Dad are, well, Mom and Dad. You and I are a team. When you move out, I'm not going to have anybody in my corner."

"Hey, you know I've always got your back, no matter where I live."

"PJ!" their mother's voice rang out. Both teens winced at the sheer volume. "PJ Duncan, you get down here this instant!"

"Won't miss her lovely sweet tones, will you?" Teddy chuckled.

He shot her a quick grin and loped out of the room. His mother waited at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed and lips definitely turned down in a frown.

"What's up, Ma?" he quipped. As if he didn't know.

"PJ, you father and I count on you to help with your little brother and sister," she said. "Gabe has to get to baseball practice, and we need you to take him there. End of discussion. Get your keys, get your brother, and do it. I don't care if you want to pick at each other and fight the entire way there; you're driving him to practice. Do I make myself clear?"

"But—"

"Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Ma'am!" PJ fought back the urge to salute.

Moments later, he glared at Gabe's reflection in the rear-view mirror. Technically, Gabe was old enough to sit in the front seat, but their parents still insisted that he was safer in the back seat of PJ's car because of his small stature. Besides, they didn't want him distracting his big brother while driving.

PJ was a good driver, and the baseball field was only fifteen minutes away. But the minutes stretched out interminably as both brothers refused to be the one to break the sullen silence.

The late afternoon sun was nearly blinding, even with his sunglasses on and the visor down. Maybe that explained why he didn't see the pickup truck approaching from his right. Maybe that also explained why the truck's driver never even slowed down at the stop sign. He plowed directly into the passenger side of PJ's little blue car, sending it into an out-of control spin.

Stunned by the impact, PJ struggled with the steering wheel and fought to bring the vehicle to a stop. He felt disoriented and nauseous, but didn't feel any specific pain anywhere. Just rattled. But the car! His first car … destroyed! He looked at the caved-in, twisted passenger side of the car, at the glass scattered across the seat, and wondered what the heck he was supposed to do now. Call 911? Call Mom and Dad? Call Gabe's coach—

Gabe.

No. Oh, no, no, no.

_Get out of my life!_ PJ's last words to his brother rang in his ears.

No, no, no.

"Gabe! Gabe, answer me!" PJ wrenched at his seat belt with fingers that were suddenly numb and useless. Finally free of the belt, he pushed open the door.

A crowd was starting to gather. Two people were tugging at the rear door. A man seized his arms. "Son, you need to sit down over here," the man told him. "You might be hurt; you shouldn't be moving."

"My brother – I need to get my brother! He's in the back seat ! He's –"

"_PJ!"_ the door opened, and a small brown-haired rocket launched itself into PJ's arms.

PJ staggered back a few steps, hugging the smaller boy fiercely. He didn't trust himself to speak; slowly, carefully, he sank to his knees right there in the road.

After a moment, PJ pulled back away from Gabe and cupped is brother's face in his hands. "Are you hurt?" he asked, peering intently into his brother's face. He didn't see any blood or bruises. Just wide, terrified eyes in a pale round face. "Gabe, talk to me. Are you hurt anywhere?"

"N-no. Are _you_? PJ, PJ, I'm so sorry I argued with you! I'm sorry I called you a jerk. I'm sorry—"

"Me, too! Oh, my God …" PJ pulled him close again in a crushing embrace.

"Your car—"

"—can be replaced. You can't." Oddly enough, PJ couldn't rid himself of the sudden mental image of his father showing him a tiny infant in a glass-walled crib. "_Meet your baby brother, PJ. His name is Gabriel Benjamin, but we'll call him Gabe. Do you think you can help your mom and me take care of a little baby brother?_

"PJ, we have to call Mom and Dad," Gabe's voice was muffled against PJ's chest.

"In a minute," PJ told him. I've got to call Emmet first, and tell him I'm not going anywhere for a while."


	2. Chapter 2

After supper that night, PJ sat on the front porch and played his guitar while he let his mind roam. Emmet had been disappointed about the apartment, of course, but he seemed to understand; he'd spent so much time at the Duncan house over the years that he sometimes seemed to think of himself as another sibling. He probably wouldn't have been in a hurry to move out, either.

"Do you guys need anything?" he had asked. "You and the little guy are all right, right?"

PJ assured him that they were both fine. Now, hours later, he wished he hadn't been so quick to dismiss his friend. He didn't feel like being alone, but he didn't particularly feel like being around anyone in his family, either. It didn't help that he was starting to feel stiff and achy in a few areas that had been jarred during the impact, especially across his collarbone and chest where the seatbelt had yanked him back against the seat.

PJ groaned inwardly when the door opened and his mother stepped out on the porch with him. He was so not in the mood to deal with her tendency to make everything about _her_.

Strangely, she didn't speak right away. She handed him a mug of cocoa – full of marshmallows, just the way he liked it – and sat quietly beside him.

"Mom?" he finally asked. "You okay?"

"Mmm-hmm. Just thinking."

He picked idly at the guitar strings, waiting for his cocoa to cool or for his mother to speak.

"You're really good at that, you know," she told him. "So . . . I talked to Emmet's Dad tonight. He said you and Emmet have been looking at an apartment together."

Oh.

"Mom, we were just looking at it. We decided not to do it yet."

"What changed your mind?"

PJ shrugged. "I don't really know," he said truthfully. "I sort of feel like I'm ready to move out, now that I'm out of high school. But I also feel like I just can't go yet, like I still need to be here. Like you said earlier, you and Dad count on me."

Amy made a face. "Okay, PJ, you've probably never heard me say this, but I was wrong."

He couldn't help it; he laughed out loud at the expression on his mother's face.

"Oh, fine, go ahead and laugh!" she retorted. But her lips twitched as she tried to fight back her own giggles. "Seriously, I don't think your father and I say 'thank you' to you and Teddy enough for all that you do around here. I don't know how we would have managed things with Gabe and Charlie without you guys."

"I don't mind most of the time."

"I know you don't, Honey." Amy twisted her wedding ring and struggled to find the right words. "But you aren't the parent here. I'm sorry if you've had too much responsibility thrown at you. I don't want you to give up your own opportunities because you think we need you too much."

"So . . . you _want_ me to move out?"

"No! Of course not. Sweetie, I… I just don't want you to feel like you _can't_."

PJ looked through the window into his family's living room. His father was on the couch, watching some kind of game on TV. Gabe sat nearby, alternating between the game and the videogame in his hand. Charlie trotted back and forth between them, handing them different pieces of toy food that they pretended to eat. Watching them, PJ noticed the easy way they smiled at each other or hugged Charlie, or how Gabe occasionally leaned against dad. Each time he did, Bob would rub his shoulder or pat his arm affectionately.

PJ swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat. He couldn't imagine living anywhere without the love that seemed to permeate the very walls of his childhood home.

"I'm just not ready, " he finally managed. "I think I want to stick around for a while, if that's okay."

"Of course it's okay! And we'll try not to lean on you quite so much in the future." She stood up and stretched. "Now I'm going to be 'Nurse Amy' for a minute. You're probably going to be a little bit bruised and sore tomorrow, so I'm going to recommend a nice hot shower and an early night. Okay?"

"Sure, Mom." He glanced through the window again.

Amy leaned over to plant a kiss on his forehead. "For the record? The way you feel every time you look at him and think about how you could have lost him today . . .I feel the same way every time I look at both of you. I'm so glad my little boys weren't hurt."

"'Little'?" he echoed. "Mom, I've been taller than you since, like, fifth grade. And I hate to break it to you, but Gabe is taller than you now, too."

"And you're still my little boys!"

"You are so twisted."

"All part of my charm," she told him, winking.

PJ smiled to himself as his mother went back inside, leaving him alone again. Yeah, someday soon it would be time to move out on his own. But not yet.


End file.
